Chapter 5 -

  The forest did not feel different after Mikel died.

  That was what unsettled Coleen the most.

  The trees still stood the same way. The wind still moved through the leaves. Somewhere far off, something called out, a bird, maybe, or something pretending to be one. If she hadn’t watched the dirt fall onto his body herself, she might have believed nothing had changed at all.

  But everything had.

  They moved slower now.

  No one said it outright, but the absence at the front of the group was impossible to miss; direction. Where Mikel had walked with quiet certainty, there was now only space, and the unspoken question of who filled it.

  Coleen felt the weight of it settling onto her shoulders long before anyone looked to her.

  She tightened her grip on the dagger at her side, the leather of Mikel’s belt worn smooth beneath her fingers. It wasn’t comfort. It wasn’t reassurance.

  It was responsibility. And she wasn't sure she was ready for it.

  Behind her, the group shifted as they walked. Not as one, not anymore. The survivors were beginning to separate, not physically, but in smaller, subtler ways.

  A man near the back kept muttering under his breath, counting his steps as if afraid to lose them. A woman walked with her arms wrapped tightly around herself despite the heat, eyes fixed on the ground as though the forest might swallow her if she looked up. Two others whispered to each other constantly, their voices low and urgent, arguing about whether they should have stayed near the road.

  Fear was no longer shared evenly.

  The danger to the group had shifted. Now it was personal.

  Colin stayed close to Coleen’s side, the chainmail shifting softly as he moved. It looked too heavy on him, she thought, not because of the weight, but because of what it represented. He caught her watching and gave her a small, crooked smile.

  “We’re okay,” he said quietly. Not confidently. Just… hopefully. She didn’t know he wasn’t just talking about the group.

  She nodded, even though she didn’t fully agree.

  ***

  Night came without introduction.

  The group didn’t stop when the sun disappeared. No one suggested it. Stopping meant sitting still, and sitting still meant thinking too much about what had already happened, and what might still be waiting.

  They pressed on through the dark, guided more by instinct than sight. Every snapped twig sounded too loud. Every shadow felt like it leaned closer when they weren’t looking.

  Someone tripped. Someone hissed for quiet. Someone else nearly started crying before another survivor reached out and pulled them forward, hand gripping arm hard enough to hurt.

  “Slow down,” Aisha said quietly, her scrubs catching on a low branch as she grabbed the limping survivor’s sleeve. She crouched without ceremony, fingers already probing for damage.

  “It’s just a twist,” she murmured after a moment. “Painful, but not broken.”

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  The man exhaled shakily. “Thank you.”

  Someone behind them whispered sharply, trying to get her attention. “Aisha-”

  She glanced up once. “Keep moving. I’ll catch up.”

  A woman further back slowed her pace to match a younger girl who was starting to shake. They were murmuring quietly together until their breathing evened out. When the girl nodded that she was okay, the woman squeezed her hand once and let her go.

  One of the larger men moved ahead without comment, testing the ground before signaling the others forward. When someone stumbled, he caught them by the pack strap and set them upright before stepping aside again.

  The student in running shoes laughed once under his breath at nothing at all, the sound brittle and surprised, then swallowed it and kept walking.

  Coleen let it happen.

  They needed each other more than they needed silence.

  It was Rod who noticed the light first.

  “Wait,” he murmured.

  They froze.

  Ahead, between the trees, a faint glow flickered, steady, warm, unmistakably human. Not moonlight. Not firelight dancing wild.

  A window.

  A small clearing and a cabin.

  Rod looked at Coleen. “What should we do?”

  The group didn’t surge forward. If anything, they pulled back instinctively, fear shifting shape once again. This danger had walls. Doors. People.

  Coleen signaled for others to follow her. Thinking they could be small and quiet, she pointed at Kevin and Shelby. Kevin moved immediately, face pale but determined. Shelby hesitated just long enough to glance back at the others before joining them, her jaw set tight. Colin and Rod joined at the back.

  The rest waited, some crouching, some standing rigid, all watching as if the group of them were crossing a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

  They moved slowly toward the cabin, careful with each step. The porch came into view first, then the front door, the window glowing from within. Close enough now to hear faint movement inside. A scrape. A soft thump. The wood creaked under shifting weight.

  They crouched near the edge of the clearing, whispering urgently.

  “What if they’re hostile?” Kevin asked.

  “What if they’re not?” Shelby countered.

  “What if they are until proven otherwise,” Coleen said quietly.

  They were still arguing when the front door opened.

  Light spilled out into the darkness, sudden and blinding. The three of them turned instinctively, eyes stinging as they raised their hands without thinking, empty, open, exposed.

  For a heartbeat, they saw nothing.

  Then their vision adjusted.

  An older woman stood in the doorway, an oil dish lamp held steady in her hand. Her hair was pulled back, streaked with gray, her face lined by years rather than fear. She peered into the trees with calm, searching eyes, as if she had expected them.

  The forest held its breath.

  And for the first time since arriving in this world, Coleen wasn’t sure which side of the darkness they stood.